She returned to the living room, scrutinizing it more closely. Figuring she should do something to make herself useful, she got on her hands and knees and peered under the futon. Papers were everywhere. She pulled the papers out: no reason not to be thorough.
Something was under the papers: a mid-sized bag. She pulled it out and opened it. There was a tablet inside under some notebooks. She powered it up, but of course it was password protected. Oh well. She could get the password off with a program at her own apartment. She slid the tablet back into the bag and rose.
“Nothing in the bedroom or bathroom,” Preston said as he walked back out into the living.
“I found something: blood in the kitchen and a tablet.” Elle held up the bag. “It probably doesn’t contain anything, but it’s worth taking.”
“Did you get a sample?” he asked.
Although she wanted to give him a sarcastic reply, she wanted to get out of there more. “Yes.”
They didn’t encounter anyone as they made their way down the hall, but she could hear the TVs and music playing behind various doors. Yep, this really was a building for students. It was nearly midnight at this point: people with regular jobs were asleep by now. Elle felt a twinge as she remembered the twenty-four hour student schedule. She, Marni, Tina, and Adam had stayed up late plenty of nights, going on fast food and coffee runs at two or three in the morning or ordering food in if they didn’t feel like going out.
The cold air that greeted them when Preston opened the door brought her focus back to the present.
“Take cover!” he yelled as he dived for the bushes.
She dived behind him on instinct as she heard a popping sound. Was that… gunfire? This was like one of the training sessions she’d endured while becoming field rated.
She heard the click of the safety on Preston’s gun as she saw it gleam in the light from the street lamp. He was taking aim. She had her own firearm out without even thinking.
“Draw your weapon!” he hissed.
It was as if her fingers moved on automatic pilot as she unlocked the safety while she tried to scan through the bushes. Although her hands felt shaky, she was glad to see the gun was still. She could see two shooters sitting in a car in the parking lot, windows down, and facing the heavy patch of bushes where they hid.
One good thing about their position was that the shooters’ car was further down the parking lot than their car was, so they didn’t have to pass the guys’ car.
The bad thing was that there was no cover once they stepped out from behind the bushes: they were open targets for the ten feet they needed to cross to reach their own car.
They could be shot dead in ten feet.
She had voluntarily signed up for this.
Preston was taking aim through the bushes. She watched as he seemed to lock in on his target and then squeezed out a shot.
One guy seemed to slump over in the car. The engine in the car came to life before it began backing up without even turning on its headlights.
Elle started to stand up but Preston held out a restraining arm. She heard the pop and felt the heat of something against the side of her head as she dropped back down again.
Had that guy fired at her even as he was backing up?
She heard the tires crunching the gravel of the parking lot as the car sped off.
“Come on.” Preston pulled her up and headed for their car. She followed. It was definitely time to go.
Once they were driving away in the car, he asked, “Were you hit?”
She put her hand up to her cheek and pulled it away. Was there something wet on her gloves? She pulled off her glove and felt again. Yes. There was something dripping down the side of her head.
That something was probably blood.
“There’s a first aid kit in the glove compartment.” His eyes stayed focused on the road. “Is it bad?”
“It can’t be.” She spoke without thinking as she opened the glove compartment. “I can’t even feel anything.”
“That’s shock. You’ll feel it soon.” He sounded all knowing, but she knew he was likely right. “But you’re alert and talking so it’s not too bad.” He wasn’t wasting any time getting them back to where their plane waited, driving just slow enough to avoid getting a police cruiser’s attention but managing to speed past traffic lights before the yellow turned to red.
She took out some gauze and began wiping the side of her face. When she pressed into her scalp it hurt more. Feeling around, there didn’t seem to be any kind of deep indentation. The bullet had likely grazed her scalp.
Nevertheless, she had been shot. She had actually been shot.
She pressed the gauze against her scalp, hoping the pressure would stop the bleeding. Trying to put on a bandage with all of her hair would be quite a task. Would she have to shave part of her scalp? The thought of having to shave a big bald patch in her head was not a fun one. She’d definitely stand out then.
She was seriously worried about a bald spot when she had just been shot. What the hell was wrong with her?
“Starting to re-think some of your decisions?” Preston shot a quick but probing glance at her before re-focusing on the road.
Elle was glad it was dark. “I wanted excitement. Tonight I got it.” Her heart was still pounding from the adrenaline. This was a hell of a rush.
He smirked. “How are your choices stacking up?”
Damn his perceptiveness to eternal hellfire. She continued to put pressure on her scalp as the car cut through the traffic, getting them closer to the waiting plane. They did not need to get into a personal discussion now.
“This is part of the reality of the choices we make, the consequences of becoming agency operatives.” Although he kept his eyes trained on the road, she knew he was determined to make whatever point he wanted to make.
After a pause, she finally said, “I was perfectly aware that getting shot was a possibility of becoming field rated. No surprise there.” Even if it was a surprise to actually get, well, shot.
“Tonight you got grazed. Tomorrow it could be worse.” He maneuvered the car with a deft hand.
“It’s a risk we all take.” She knew that, had always known that, but having the risk made real was… quite a different story. Yet she wouldn’t be scared off.
He parked his car, got out, and was around to her side before she’d even fully stepped out of the car herself. “Let me take a look.” He gave her the slightest push so she’d sit back down. With the door open, the overhead car light was on.
“I’m fine,” she insisted as he held her head to the side, studying her scalp.
“Yeah, the bullet grazed you. That’s it. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
The plane was waiting on the air strip, and Elle could see the pilot in the cockpit. They wasted no time boarding.
One they had taken off, Preston went rummaging around for a moment and came back with another first-aid kit. As she started to protest, he said, “Just let me clean it out and disinfect it.”
That did need to be done, and he could do it easier than she could, since she wasn’t standing in front of a mirror. She could feel his warmth as he bent over her, his touch gentle. He was quick, wiping the area with a stinging disinfectant before smoothing on antibiotic ointment.
“I don’t think you need anything covering this,” he said, “but do you want me to try to tape some gauze here?”
“That’s okay: it’ll be fine.”
He nodded and sat back in his chair.
She knew she had to say it, even though she hated saying it, but he deserved to hear it. She swallowed hard. “Thanks. For everything. You- you probably saved my life, stopping me from getting up when I did.”
If she had continued rising, the bullet likely would have hit her right in the head rather than grazing her.
He shrugged. “It’s what partners do.”
She nodded, feeling the early throbs of a headache coming on. “Yeah, but I- I know I- I haven’t be
en the easiest partner you’ve probably had.”
Preston’s gaze was full of too much understanding for her comfort. “This isn’t an easy op for any operative. For a new one, and with our history, you’re doing a great job.”
She felt like she should say something else but finally just nodded.
He gave her a grin. “And don’t let Mason give you any shit about getting shot, either.”
Elle made a face that said it all: like she could stop him.
They both laughed.
***
Elle dozed on the plane ride back, so by the time she got to her apartment, she had a second wind of energy. She figured she might as well look at the tablet now. Mason would want to know what was on it ASAP. Besides, she wanted him to see that getting shot wouldn’t slow her down, even if the bullet had just grazed her head. It was still a bullet wound.
Her apartment had never felt like such a safe haven. Looking around, she made a mental note to put more effort into decorating. It could be even more inviting, but it was hers, and she knew she was safe there. She got settled on her futon and powered up the tablet.
After Elle got past the password block, she started scanning the hard drive for any files with code. It was unlikely he would have kept it on this, but she had to be thorough. It didn’t take her long to determine there wasn’t any code related to a blended threat on the tablet since the tablet hard drive wasn’t all that large, and she was relaxed enough to fall asleep.
As she was going to power it down, she accidentally tapped on a folder and pictures popped up, filling the screen.
Her sleepiness evaporated as her eyes widened. Her throat went dry. She tried to swallow some of the bottled water she’d been sipping and nearly choked.
This wasn’t her first time seeing these pictures. A woman on all fours, back arched, as a guy rode her from behind. Bella Brown. And the guy riding her from behind? It was Adam. She saw these pictures while in college: it was how she found out about his cheating.
Had the bullet wound affected her more than she realized?
No. No, she wasn’t seeing things. Her brain tried to make sense of what her eyes saw.
This tablet belonged to the independent contractor the government hired to create a blended threat to counteract the terrorists’ activities.
The independent contractor was a student.
Adam was getting a doctorate in computer science; he had the skills to create a blended threat.
He was a grad student there: she had seen his picture in the hallway.
Her mind flashed back to the apartment. There hadn’t been any photographs out, but Adam wasn’t the type to put up a lot of pictures. He was a gamer, though, and there had been a game console: the same type of console she’d watched him play many nights while trying to coax him to come to bed.
Preston had checked the bedroom and bathroom, where more personal information was likely visible.
This was Adam’s tablet. He was the independent contractor.
Chapter 23
Elle was dressed and ready to go early the next morning. She barely slept the night before, but she was still wide awake. Actually, she was as wired as if she had been drinking coffee all night. Just as she was about to call Mason, her phone rang. His number came up on her caller ID.
“When will you finish checking the tablet?” At least she could count on him to get right to the point.
“I’m done,” she replied, “and I need to talk to you.” She wanted to interrogate him over the phone but remembered a key lesson from her training: it was always better to question someone in person, to observe their nonverbal reactions as well as hear their verbal ones. She would need to use every ounce of her training for her handler.
“Excellent. Let’s meet at 9:30 am. In the Maps Room at the Naval Library.”
She was in the middle of saying “I’ll be there” when she heard the click: he’d disconnected the call.
Bastard.
Well, she’d sure as hell see him at 9:30.
***
As Elle strode through the library and down the hall, she felt like a freight train picking up steam. She had a plan for how she was going to handle this.
Mason and Preston were both sitting in the room when she pushed the door open, letting it swing back to hit the wall. They both looked up at her. She didn’t even slow down as she approached the table.
“Adam Clemento is the independent contractor.” She set the tablet down on the table as she spoke but remained standing. She needed every position of power she could get.
Neither man’s faces gave anything away, but their practiced blankness told her the answer.
“When, exactly, was I going to be informed of this?” she demanded.
After a long pause, Mason spoke. “Personally identifiable information about employees is on a need-to-know basis, Ms. Paquet. Something you should understand by now.”
It wasn’t a denial. Her legs felt so shaky, she was forced to sit. She drew in a few deep breaths. “Well you had me retrieve and examine equipment with personally identifiable information on it, so I think it’s safe to say you blew it in terms of maintaining confidentiality.”
Neither Mason nor Preston spoke.
Adam had been kidnapped by terrorists. He was a computer geek- he wasn’t trained to handle torture. Her own torture training had given her nightmares, and it had been mostly simulations. Unless…
“Is Adam a trained operative?” He could be. She was. He’d never guess her to be one; she’d be equally clueless about him.
Mason began, “That is classified-”
But Preston spoke up. “No. it was the same set-up as when you were in school.” Mason shot him what looked like a warning glance, but he ignored it.
Elle remembered dashing through the library stacks as a student, trying to make it to the safe room before terrorists captured her. It had been so terrifying, she had questioned her interest in joining the agency even as an analyst.
“Was he working with an operative?” she asked. She worked with Preston until he had to return to the field.
Mason replied after a pause. “No. He thought he was working for a cybersecurity company when he was kidnapped.”
So he likely had no idea what the hell was going on when strangers snatched him or why he’d been kidnapped, or why he was being tortured.
Her stomach roiled with nausea; she tried to breathe through it. Yeah, she’d been seriously pissed when she found out he was cheating on her, but she still wouldn’t have wished this on him. Her hands felt like they were shaking, but she was relieved to see that they were steady. She raised her head to see both Mason and Preston studying her closely.
“What’s being done to rescue him?” Adam wasn’t trained to withstand interrogation. He’d likely already broken, which was why those guys had been waiting for them outside the apartment.
“Agent Raddick will work with an extraction team, tracking possible locations. As soon as we locate him, they’ll retrieve him.”
He needed to be rescued now. “As soon as they find him?”
“They won’t hurt him, Elle,” Preston said. “They probably want him to do some programs, either modify this blended threat or share what he was doing for us to counteract it. They need him to be able to work.”
She gave him a sharp look. When people went through the effort to kidnap a person, they usually didn’t become all warm and fuzzy.
“They won’t hurt him badly,” he amended.
“You mean they won’t kill him right away,” she corrected.
He didn’t dispute her correction.
She looked at them and realized something, something that made her feel cold inside. “I can’t trust a word either one of you say. You’ve been lying to me the entire time.”
Preston didn’t even try to hide the surprised look on his face; even Mason’s eyes widened for a moment.
Elle rose. Although her legs still felt shaky, they held firm. “I can’t work like this-�
��
“Ms. Paquet.” Mason cut her off. “Is this where you, yet again, try to renege on your agreement with the agency?”
That stopped her cold. After a moment she remembered to close her mouth. Again? Maybe she had had some doubts during her probationary period, after Marni had been attacked because a terrorist was looking for her, but those had been understandable doubts.
“This is getting tiresome.” He wasn’t letting up. “You made a commitment, took an oath, demanded a more intense level of involvement with the agency, and as soon as you discover something unexpected, you want to quit?”
“I want to be informed.” She wasn’t going to back down. He was twisting everything, and he was the one who’d been lying, dammit. “I had a right to know-”
“Elle-” Preston sounded mollifying, but she didn’t take her eyes off Mason.
He met her stare, unflinching. “I decide what you need to be informed about. You may be new at this, but you know how the agency operates-”
She knew she should stay calm, in control, even as she heard her voice rising. “To hell with how the agency operates-”
Mason rose himself, looking down at her from his full height, which wasn’t more than an inch or so taller than her, so they were virtually eye-to-eye. “We have rules, operating procedures, designed to protect against the very thing we are currently fighting: a massive infiltration-”
“How can you prevent a massive infiltration when you lie to your very employees? Why would anyone be loyal to the agency when the agency lies-” She wasn’t backing down any more than he was. To hell with this. It had gone too far.
Preston stood himself, and he was taller than both of them. “Elle, sit down: I know this is a shock-”
“What the hell do you know about shocks?” Her voice was getting even louder. “You knew about this the entire time!” And the flash of guilt in his eyes told her it was true: he had known and kept it a secret from her.
Mason’s voice was like the lash of a whip. “You may not like how we do business, but you agreed to be a part of it. You have orders to complete this mission and if you willfully fail to complete them-”
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